Foolish Games
by teamdoccubus
Summary: Clarke Griffin is a spoiled party-animal brat at 25 and Abigail Griffin has had enough, so she throws Clarke out of their Sky Mansion until she "grows up". Lexa is an accomplished business woman 21. Head over heels in love with a beautiful and loyal woman. Or so she thinks. A Clarke / Lexa modern-day AU with a bit of Lincoln / Octavia on the side and a Jasper / Monty Brotp.


**AN: I am so sorry for not updating my Doccubus fics. I just can't seem to get the inspiration to do so. :(**

**Clarke Griffin.**

25 years old, daughter of Abigail Griffin. The CEO of the multi-billion dollar gaming company, ArkiGames. And party animal.

She lets out a loud whoop as she downs another glass of Patron, smirking at the girl who, just seconds ago had a taste of Clarke's tongue running up her belly, and jumping up the glass table of DC'S most luxurious club. Not bothering to take off her 6-inch black stiletto. The crowd cheers her on as her arms raised, her eye hooded, and her hips gyrates to the loud thumping of the bass.

She waves at the tequila girl, "Come up! Come on!" she shouts gesturing frantically.

The girl nods and gets up the table with the help of a few hands. Clarke giggles and drapes her arms over the girl's shoulders as the continues her sensual dance. This girl is a stranger, but she always had a thing for brunettes. Or dark-haired people in general. She can barely hear the crowd chanting at first but it grew louder with each beat of the bass. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. She giggles again and looks at the girl.

"Shall we give them a show?" She doesn't wait for an answer.

She immediately licks the girl's lips first and pulls her into a deep, open mouthed kiss. The crowd cheers even more loudly and Clarke hears one guy call out Kim

"Hey blondie! Take that top off!" she doesn't need to look at him, so she continues to kiss the girl and sticks out her middle finger to the direction of the guy.

She groans as the loud banging on the door echoes through her head like the beat of the bass last night at the club. Only last night she enjoyed the throwing of the bass. Today, she curses the throwing in her head!

"Clarke Griffin open this goddamn door this second!" she groans again.

"Mother please stop." she croaks, her throat feels dry. The incessant banging doesn't stop, however. So she sits up suddenly and regrets it immediately as her room starts spinning and her head feels like Thor's hammer just split it open. She takes her pillow and wraps it around her head, covering her ears, and she squeezes her eyes shut while she stumbles to the door swinging it open. She doesn't even bother opening her eyes.

"What!" she says grumpily.

Abby walks in without saying a word and Clarke follows her squinting her eyes.

"Please don't yell, mother. I'm feeling crappy as it is."

Abby slams the newspaper in her hand onto the mini bar and Clarke winces.

"Ouch. Not too loud."

She frowns and leans toward the the newspaper to get a better look. Her hands still clutched on the pillow wrapped around her head. She squints her eyes and scrunches her nose.

"SHE IS AT IT AGAIN: Daughter of billionaire Abby Griffin is out of control."

A picture of her on the table licking the girl's lips, and holding up her middle finger was at the bottom. And a smaller photo of her punching a guy who was holding a camera, on the nose. She snorts and grins.

"I got him good!"

"This is not amusing Clarke." her mother's voice was deep and serious.

Clarke freezes. She never uses that tone unless she is really angry. Clarke straightens up and lowers the pillow, forgetting her throbbing head.

"When do you plan to start being responsible? I've put up with your parties and raves in hopes that one day soon you'll get back to being responsible. You weren't always like this Clarke, not-"

"Mom, don't."

"-since your dad died. I've given you time to grieve just as I have and it's been five years-"

"Don't!" she yelled this time. "Don't use dad on me like you have the right! You DO NOT have the right to even mention dad!"

"You have no idea-" Abby's voice broke.

"No mother! You have no idea what you did!" her voice raising an octave higher than her usual this time. She ignores the throbbing of her head that echoes to her ears. Her heart beats hard and fast along with the throbbing in her head. She does not care. She takes three steps toward her mother, her forefinger pointing at her mother's chest.

"YOU were the one who called the police on him. YOU were the one who left him there to rot in a prison he does not deserve! YOU were the one who decided it was okay that I grow up without a father! YOU WERE THE REASON DAD KILLED HIMSELF-!

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Abby screamed. And she is visibly shaking, her hands balled into a fist, and tears are flowing uncontrollably and she was gasping for air.

"That's enough. I want you out of this house by noon tomorrow. You will take nothing but the clothes you need. You will not take your car, or anything else except your clothes. I will leave you enough cash for your rent and food for the next month. The rest you will have to do for yourself. And do not come back until I see you have control over your life again."

With that, Abby Griffin walks out the door, never turning back as Clarke weakly calls her. And Clarke never saw her again. Not the morning after. All she saw was an envelope that contained roughly $500 but Clarke couldn't really count because of the tears clouded her eyes. It dawned on her that her mother meant every word she said. So the ate the almost cold toast that Abby had left for her and drank her OJ in between sobs. She walked slowly to her room, taking in every detail of the huge mansion, home, that she probably won't see in a very long time. She ran a hot bath and took her time until her fingers were wrinkly. She closes her eyes and allows herself to breathe in the lavender and vanilla scent that she always loved, knowing she will never have this luxury for a while. Or maybe never.

Monty frowns at the screen and types frantically on the glowing keyboard of his 'baby' as he called it. A few seconds later a smile spreads on his lips.

"Yesssssss! Who's your daddy now, huh?" he pumps his fist in the air and does a victory dance before he realizes he looks stupid and clears his throat and sits back down.

Although he knows he's alone he felt a little stupid. But he's been working on this code for half an hour now and it kills him that he can't seem to get it right. He sits there placing his hands on the back of his head and leans back smugly. Moments later he hears a knock on his door. He checks his watch and his eyes immediately goes wide.

"Shit! I totally forgot!" He runs to the door and opens it.

"Dude! Are you watching porn again?" Jasper says as he shoves a cup of coffee at his chest and enters unceremoniously.

Monty rolls his eyes. "I was working on that thing you wanted. And where's the pizza?"

"I already called." Jasper says walking straight to Monty's Alienware. "Is this it? Load it so I can check." he says taking his phone out of his pocket and throws it at Monty who almost drops it.

"What the fuck dude!"

"Hey you caught it didn't you?" Jasper shrugs. Monty groans and sits on his chair and connects the phone to the computer, then punches a few buttons, then grabbing the coffee cup and takes a few gulps.

"So, is Octavia and Lincoln coming?" he turns and faces Jasper while waiting for the game to load on the phone.

"They said they're on their way. But you know them."Monty groans and Jasper laughs."I don't wanna talk about it.

"Remember the time you walked in on them-"

"No stop! I don't wanna talk about it." Monty whines and sticks a finger into his mouth and gags and Jasper laughs harder. He threatens to throw Jasper his coffee so Jasper purses his lips and puts his hand up in a mock surrender and Monty lowers his coffee beside the keyboard. He punches a few shortcuts on the keyboard, disconnects the phone from the computer and throws the phone back to Jasper who flawlessly catches it and bows.

Monty laughs. "Dork."

"Thank you!" Jasper grins and gets busy with his phone. "What level is this?"

"Fifteen. And you designed that level, you should know."

"Yeah no, but I didn't see the art Lincoln did for this level. And this should be a bug right?" He hands Monty the phone and points to the character who is now in the middle of the screen and in full epileptic-mode. Monty can't help but laugh.

"Yeah it is a bug, Jasper. Duh!"

"Well I'm a Game Designer, dude! Not a programmer."

"No dude you beta-tested our games..." Monty's voice trailed off.

"What?"

"Maya, huh?" Monty snickers and Jasper's eyes goes wide. "That's why you're distracted!"

"Dude give me back my phone!" Jasper says, his voice deep.

"Last night was amazing, Jas." Monty says, while doing his best to imitate a female' voice. His hand on his cheek.  
"I can't wait to see you again."

Jasper growls. "Stop reading my texts!" He lunges at Monty who dodges and runs around the table to the opposite side of the living room. Jasper doubles back and catches up with the smaller boy and holds his wrist, but Monty has already transfered the phone to his free hand and keeps it out of Jasper's reach.

"Erm!" comes a voice from the doorway. "You guys want us to comeback 'nother time?"

It's Octavia, holding three boxes of pizza and Lincoln beside her holding a bag which Jasper assumed was beer, and holding back his laughter with so much effort. Octavia's eyebrow raises and she's grinning. With Monty temporarily distracted he grabs the chance and snatches the phone out of Monty's hands. Octavia looks directly at Monty, her grin grows even wider.

"Now we're even, dude." she winks and walks off to the kitchen to get some ice leaving Monty slack-jawed and stuttering while Jasper curses and Lincoln sits on the couch, his laughter echoing through the hallway.

Clarke left an hour later, taking her Bentley Continental GT Speed Convertible for a drive one last time and looked for a cheap apartment, within the confines of the city. It's took her three hours to find an 'okay' place. It was small, but clean, and it already had what she needed. Furniture, a hot shower, (no bathtub though) a small bed and a refrigerator. She paid the landlord in full and went back home, driving slowly, letting herself enjoy the feel of the wind on her face. She turned off the radio and just took everything in. It was an hour drive from the city to their mansion which was located on top of a hill overlooking the city.

When their family moved from New York 15 years ago, after her mother's parents, her grandparents, were murdered (because of business matters, her mom had told her) they moved to the mansion on top of the hill. Clarke immediately fell in love with it. She loved the view, and she had her own balcony so she could paint almost everyday. In no time, Clarke had officially declared that the mansion be officially called the 'Sky Mansion'. Her mother had laughed at her but her father took her into his arms, twirled her around and said he loved it.

Clarke smiled at the memory but the tears, she allowed to flow. She packed her bags as soon as she got home, and called for a cab. It took an hour for the cab to arrive so she had time to walk around the house she adored. She was hoping against hope that her mother would come home. At least see her before she leaves. She never did. So when the cab came, she left all of her keys on the table by the door, walked outside with one suitcase in hand. She handed it to the driver, who in turn opened the trunk and loaded it in. He asked if that was all and there is and she nodded, and the look on the driver's face was gold that she had to suppress the urge to laugh. She really must look like a spoiled brat. Or maybe the driver knows her as the Griffin who's 'at it again'. She brushed it off and took one last look at the house.

"May we meet again, Mom." she whispered before got in the cab. She tried not to look back.

Lexa did not mind that they have not talked so much in a while. The entire week she was buried in work that she barely had time for family. The week before that was even more toxic because of the new game they had to release the following week. She had to make sure everything was perfectly executed, and the game was bug-free. So she stayed up with most of the employees. And she made sure everyone worked and don't slack off during these crucial hours. So she had to walk around to check that everything is being done.

Lexa does not regret that she worked hard and almost neglected everything else the past month. It was for her future. Their future. The release was successful and the game sold millions. She smiles as she looks at the bouquet of red roses. Her favorite. Predictable maybe, but that's what she likes about her. She's simple, easy to please and never complicated. She asked so little of Lexa. She never demanded for her time so Lexa made it a point to give her anything and everything she needs. Clothes, the best place at a luxury high rise, the car she wanted. And Lexa is content when she sees that smile on her face. She's like the sun and Lexa is the moon. When she burns, when she shines, Lexa radiates.

She lets herself hum a tune she heard on the radio a dozen times this week.

'And, darling, I will be loving you 'til we're 70. And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at 23. And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways.  
Maybe just the touch of a hand-'

Ed Sheeran has this really appealing voice. She makes a mental note to download the entire album tomorrow. She chuckles as she thinks about how her employees' jaws would drop of they actually hear her sing. But she makes her act differently. Yes, Lexa admits, she is happy. That's why she planned a surprise for her. She had asked her secretary to clear her schedule for the day, so she can personally see her plan through. She made reservations at their favorite restaurant. And yes, she booked the whole restaurant for the night. She needed a violinist, and she also called her florist. Tonight would just be about her and her beloved.

Finally arriving at her door, she fished out the spare key card out of the pocket of her trenchcoat and tapped it near the doorknob. She opens the door silently and goes inside. The room is dimly lit so she assumes that she is in her bedroom. She decides against calling get her out because it's not a surprise if she does.  
So she opens the bedroom door silently, knowing that her girlfriend could be sleeping.

She was moaning and Lexa's first thought was that she was having a nightmare. Then as her eyes adjusts to the darkness of the room she saw her. Her blonde curls bouncing as her head bobs up and down. An unfamiliar voice speaks. "That's it baby. God your tongue is magic." she hears her moan in response. It feels like a dream. More like a nightmare. And Lexa wonders why they're still doing it while she is there standing, just a few feet away from them. Anger wells up inside her and she clenches her fists around the bouquet of roses. The thorns cut through the paper and thin fabric wrapped around the bouquet, it cut through her skin. She it hurt, but the hands clenching her heart hurt even more. Taking a deep breath and all the courage she has not to break down and or cry she spoke.

"Costia." her voice deep and thick. She barely recognizes it herself. She takes another deep breath as Costia and her lover jump up and cover themselves. She recognizes the other girl. She's a muscled girl, who Lexa could only describe as a man, minus the facial hair, and the junk between his legs. It's Alice, one of her artists at Woodland Games. She calls her Alice (because that's her given name so why would I call her with another name?), and everyone in the office calls her Ice (because that's what Alice wants them to call her).

"Lexa-"

"Don't say a single word, Costia." her voice is still thick but it is now steady. She says it with commanding air.

"Get. OUT." She hisses. Her white teeth gleaming, baring them like a tiger ready to pounce. "Now!" she snarls this time causing the two jump again.

She allows the two to gather their things silently, barking another order to hurry the fuck up. And she watches them scramble like mice.

When they're gone, she allows herself to break down.

So here she is, at 11:30 in the evening on a Friday night (Yes, she partied hard on Wednesday.) alone, sitting on a worn out gray sofa, in the middle of an almost empty living room. Clarke glances at her phone. None of her so-called friends had called since the other day. She guesses that they heard about the Sky-girl's exile to earth and figured it was best to stay away from her. She chuckles. So much for real friends. She sighs, stands up and walks to her suitcase. She opens it an pulls out her sketch pad.

"HB, 2B, 6B. Kneaded eraser. Not that I need it." she mutters and shrugs as she takes out the pencils and puts them on the black (also worn out and has scratches on it that the wood under it visible but at least it's black) coffee table.

She plops back down on the sofa (and ouch she forgot it was hard and she thinks she just broke her spine). She stretches and let's out a sigh then props her legs up on the sofa.

She starts drawing, the only escape she has at the moment, as she formulates a plan in her head. She needs to look for a job in the morning. She has a decent enough portfolio, a degree, and a lot of awards to go with it. It shouldn't be that hard to look for a job. The knight she is drawing now taking form and she smirks as she realizes she was drawing a female knight. Her curls drawn back in braids. Her shoulder guards holding the cape on her left shoulder which drapes down to the ground. Her knight stands strong and proud, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword, her chin held up. She wonders if warpaint looks good on her, so she lightly sketches the warpaint around the knight's eyes, making it drip like it's wet. It adds to emotion to her strong and unwavering air. She smiles as she agrees with herself that it looks good.

Although she painted a lot of landscapes and flowers and all those things old people loved for her to do, character design was her forte. She lets her imagination run wild most of the time, and she would draw until her fingers hurt or her sketch pad is full. Clarke made a mental list of gaming companies she wants try out tomorrow. As much as she'd love to procrastinate and wallow in her misery, her mother left her with no choice. She could start small but she's ambitious. She could take a bartending job, but her passion won't allow her to waste the talent.

It's almost midnight when Clarke thinks of getting some air. She doesn't think she could sleep tonight anyway. It's drizzling and her friends would think it's weird but she likes talking a walk when it's drizzling.

Lexa did not bother taking her car. She walks out of the high-rise, and allowing her feet to take her where ever it takes her. Which isn't far because two minutes later she just allowed herself to sink. She leans on the first thing she can grasp on. The swing.

Clarke found herself in a small playground just behind a high-rise. It was a long walk from her apartment but she didn't mind. It's a perfect and quiet spot. Away from the bustle of the city. She was about to sit on a bench when she heard a sob, coming from the swings. She felt goosebumps course through her body as she remembers the horror flicks her friends used to force her to watch. She hated horror movies, and this is a perfect timing to also remember that comic when friend Wells sent her a link of. The comic moved and the images haunted Clarke for weeks. She curses under her breath. She was about to bolt when she hears the sobbing stop, followed by a series of curses. She chuckles to herself. She was pretty certain ghosts don't curse like a sailor.

She walks toward the swings and saw her sitting beside it. Not on the swing, she was sitting on the ground. Her arms wrapped around her legs and her forehead resting on her knees. Clarke immediately reaches inside her pocket and slowly approaches her.

"Hi..." she says softly, not wanting to startle her. "I don't want to bother you, but I just wanted to let you know that of you need to talk, I can listen. Or if you just need a shoulder. But if you need me to go away, I will. But here-" she holds out a handkerchief to her. "-I'm sure you need this."

She slowly looks at Clarke who is now squatting in front of her. Clarke can clearly see her face now as the light of the moon caresses it. Her eyeliner smudged away from her eyes to the side of her forehead, Clarke assumes it was because she had been wiping her eyes, and her tears had allowed the black eyeliner to run down her cheek (and Clarke makes a mental note that if she became friends with her she would recommend a really good waterproof eyeliner). And then Clarke sees it. Her warpaint. Her knight.


End file.
